Come Back Down
by BittersweetDeceit
Summary: "Because, for one, you're just a figment of my imagination - that I'm talking to, no less," Blaine whispered. It's been a month, and he is still broken. Kurt returns to try to help him, but there's only so much Blaine can do when Kurt hasn't really returned. "It is impossible to tell where revelations stop and hallucinations begin." Based on Kurt's hallucinative appearance in 4x04.


**A/N No one look at me. I am not a pretty sight. My day has been terrible - I mean, just rotten. I think you can all guess why. **

**Let me give you some quick background. I try not to watch Glee anymore (as it brings too much heartbreak) but my dear, dear friend would not stop telling me what was happening as it was happening so I gave in and downloaded it. I only really watched the Klaine things (everything else is shit, sorry), so some things may be off.**

**If you need some explanation, watch the Barely Breathing number again.**

**Just a oneshot. Probably. I don't make promises.**

**Enjoy.**

_**Come Back Down **_

"_It is impossible to tell where revelations stop and hallucinations begin."_

_-Anonymous_

He was in the auditorium.

Around him, the curtains were pulled to the side but not strung, the props and equipment were shoved crudely off to the side, and the bleachers in the back settled with the odd creak or crumble.

He was humming to himself, practicing the shuffle of his feet to the beat under his breath, but it just didn't feel right. He knew that if he sang the song, or clapped the beat out beforehand, it would feel better, but he couldn't break the silence of the stage. He couldn't bring himself to.

After all, during a time like this, even talking a few short words feels so absolutely wrong when _he's _notaround to hear it.

So he just hummed to himself, growing more and more frustrated, but refusing to admit to himself why.

Grease was still in the works, and would be until the actors worked themselves through whatever personal drama was upon them, but Blaine knew he was ready. Rather, he _convinced_ himself he was ready.

In actuality, he was far from it.

Grease is a story about, ultimately, love, and how was he to feel anything of the sort when he couldn't even define the word anymore? He looked up, hoping to draw inspiration from the empty seats.

His humming came to an abrupt halt as he stared in shock at not the empty seats, for they were still empty, but at the ledge in front of the stage.

Before him, wearing that wonderful faux uniform once again, bag strewn next to him, was Kurt, younger Kurt, looking at him with a smile. He was back.

Could it only have been a few weeks, a month, since he had been right at that very spot, wearing that very same outfit, watching Blaine sing to _Barely Breathing?_ Back then, he hadn't said anything - only watched with a sullen frown.

"Hey, Blaine," Kurt said. He crossed his legs, knees exposing themselves, and hands coming up to cover them.

Blaine had nothing to say yet. Shock was still the only thing he could process in his head, and his face showed it; his lips were wide, his eyebrows furrowed, and his nose crinkled. Kurt laughed lightly.

"You look confused," he commented. Blaine shook his head slowly, lowering it and closing his eyes. When he looked back up, Kurt was still there, staring at him with an amused frown.

"I am," Blaine admitted. His voice sliced through the silence. Only later did he notice that Kurt's did not.

"Why?"

Blaine paused. "Because you're back."

Kurt looked around himself, checking over his shoulder and to his sides. "It appears that I am. Do you not want me here?"

Blaine shook his head. "I want you here," he murmured softly.

"Well, that's why I came back," Kurt responded. He jumped down from the ledge and strode over to the edge of the stage. "Or maybe you're just going crazy."

Blaine let out a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

"I do feel crazy," Blaine mumbled.

"Why's that?" Kurt asked, crossing his arms on the stage floor and placing his head on them. He looked up to Blaine with puzzled eyes.

"Because, for one, you're just a figment of my imagination - that I'm _talking_ to, no less," Blaine muttered, hand rubbing painfully against his eye. His lips trembled. "And because I made the stupidest mistake of my life and now you're not here anymore and I just _can't-_"

"Blaine," Kurt cut off. He was staring up to Blaine with wide eyes, though they were not judgmental, or sad, or even angry. They were just empty. "What are you talking about? What mistake did you make?"

"I-" Blaine faltered. It was too much; his Kurt's confusion, his confusion, and the piled on guilt he had been feeling ever since returning from New York was settling in, caving in, caving _him _in. "I cheated. You know that, Kurt."

"I didn't actually," Kurt responded, tilting his head to the side. "Who did you cheat on, Blaine?"

Blaine paused. "You."

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "That's preposterous, Blaine. We've only just met - there's no way you can cheat on me when we've never dated. Is this some joke?"

Blaine fell to his knees, head falling down only to be caught by his hands. A violent sob wracked his entire frame.

"Just for humor's sake," Kurt interrupted, "Why are you so torn up about this? The cheater shouldn't feel remorse."

Kurt hopped onto the stage and walked slowly over to where Blaine was kneeled over. He stood in front of Blaine's crumpled body for a moment before he knelt down to his knees, too. "Blaine?"

"I feel like I'm going to die," Blaine ground out through his coughs and tears. "I feel like I'm going to die."

"Then why did you cheat in the first place?"

Blaine wiped at his eyes and looked up to meet Kurt's tired, worn face. Kurt gave him a small, bitter smile. Blaine shook his head, tears beginning to fall once again. "You know."

"Of course I know," Kurt murmured. "I _am _a figment of yourimagination, you know."

"I've lost you forever," Blaine whispered. Kurt laid a hand on his shoulder with shaking fingers. He sighed unevenly.

"It's entirely possible," he responded softly.

Blaine let out another sob, and made to wrap his arms around Kurt to bring him closer, to take back what had happened prior to them, to kiss him and forget everything, but Kurt was gone; he was met with only air.

"I need to go," Kurt mumbled from near the stage exit. He wasn't wearing his faux Dalton uniform any longer, but a kilt and a tuxedo jacket. His face was younger, and he was not taller than Blaine anymore, but at the same height. "I'm sorry, so sorry, but I'm going to be late."

Blaine looked up, tears brimming in his eyes and spilling over his red cheeks. "Wh-where are you going?"

"Prom starts in an hour," Kurt said, twirling around in his kilt with a happy, satisfied smile. "With all the bullying gone, I think tonight could be one of the best nights of my life!"

Blaine stood hastily to his feet, rubbing at his stained cheeks. "Kurt, no-"

Words failed him, for Kurt was not at the stage exit. Blaine sucked in a breath, longing desperately for the return of Kurt's presence, and he whirled around. He caught Kurt as he was walking down the aisle of the audience seats towards him.

He appeared older, but not by much. He was covered by a long, white jacket, and mint green jeans. He held coffee in his hand. "I love you, too."

Blaine blinked behind his tears, and when his eyes reopened, Kurt was standing before him with a small bouquet of red and yellow roses.

Blaine raised a hesitant arm to take the flowers, as he had done a year ago, but he grasped onto nothing. Kurt was then behind him, entering the stage from the back with his hands in his pockets, a simple black vest over his older physique.

"I'm going to the cast party. I need to go, I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking down and retreating away.

He was gone, but his laughter was not; it resounded across the auditorium from Blaine's left side. He turned around to see Kurt leaning against a post, hand over his mouth as he read over a text on his phone. He quickly responded, Chandler's name on his lips.

"I get it. You think I'm pathetic."

Blaine twisted around to see Kurt behind him once again, staring at him with a sour, little smile gracing his face.

"Wha- I, never, Kurt-"

Kurt was on the ledge again, wearing red pants and a black shirt. He crossed his legs at the knee and raised his hands to cover them. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "I have to go."

Suddenly, Kurt was wearing his old, mock Dalton uniform, the black leather jacket over the white shirt and red tie, matched with a pair of knee shorts and boots. His messenger bag was next to him.

Blaine rushed forward, tears streaking across the side of his face to his hairline. His face was desperate, he was desperate, and he dropped to his knees in front of Kurt on the stage. "I don't know what to do!"

"Try harder," the younger Kurt said. "Either try harder to forget all of this and forget me, or try harder to get me back."

"What do I do?" Blaine whispered anxiously.

"I'm only a figment of your imagination, Blaine," Kurt said as he jumped down from the ledge and grabbed his bag. "Obviously, if I'm able to appear this much, you already know what you have to do."

He leaned over the stage to Blaine, and raised a hand to sweep across Blaine's pink, stained cheeks. Blaine bowed himself forward, trying distraughtly to catch Kurt's lips.

But Kurt was gone.

Blaine lowered his head into his hands. "I want you here," he whispered into the silence.


End file.
